


Ignite

by Astrals (Evoxine)



Series: Ignoct Writing Weekend 2018 [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 20:17:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14901275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evoxine/pseuds/Astrals
Summary: Noctis finally finds out why Ignis never takes his gloves off.





	Ignite

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Ignoct Writing Weekend 2018.
> 
> Prompts used:  
> • AU: Soulmates  
> • Genre: Coming of Age

It is said that the first eighteen years of one’s life are the most important years. Once you turn eighteen, your soulmark, if successfully obtained, will slowly come to life. After those crucial 24 hours, soulmarks will cease to appear, even if soulmates happen to bump into each other a single minute after coming of age.

In this day and age, it’s not uncommon for an adult to lack a soulmark. Coming into contact with everyone in the nation in less than two decades of life is not an easy feat, and many teenagers resign themselves to the possibility that they’ll never get their mark.

Noctis is seventeen, and his birthday is just a week away. Noctis, surprisingly, is also a romantic at heart, and he desperately wishes that his soulmark will appear. He wants to know that there’s someone out there, someone’s heart and soul meant just for him, and even if they never end up together, he wants to know that they’ve touched at least once.

“Noct,” Ignis says reproachfully, his voice knocking Noctis out of his thoughts. “Do focus on your studies.”

Noctis scratches sheepishly at his mop of hair. “Right. Sorry, Specs.”

Ignis eyes him, cool viridian washing over Noctis’ frame. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” Noctis replies instantly. Picking up his pen, he returns to his work, resolutely turning away from Ignis in an attempt to focus.

 

 

 

  
Later that evening, when Ignis is bustling about in the kitchen and generating wafts of mouth-watering smells, Noctis drags his feet over to the counter and stares balefully at his advisor.

“Ready to tell me what it is that has you in this state?”

Ignis isn’t even looking at him, eyes trained on the chopping board as he slices vegetables into thin strips. The knife moves with precise accuracy, the sharp edge of the blade always landing where Ignis wants it. Noctis momentarily wonders why he keeps his right glove on even when he’s cooking.

He mumbles something that’s supposed to be _do you have a soulmark_ , but it comes out in a mess of muffled syllables, and Ignis looks up at that, brows drawn together.

“Pardon?”  
Noctis sighs, cheeks flaming red. “I asked if you have a soulmark.”

The knife is set down, and Ignis’ hands flatten against the counter as he leans in, one gloved and one bare.

“Is this what it’s about? You’re worried you won’t get your soulmark?”

Noctis opens his mouth to say something, probably to throw a mouthful of embarrassed snark at his advisor, but at that moment, Ignis leans back with a thoughtful hum.

“I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you.” He picks up the knife and returns to his task.

Question flood into Noctis’ mind, and he’s suddenly overwhelmed. “What?” He croaks. “What do you mean?”

“Call it a hunch,” Ignis says enigmatically, sweeping finely chopped carrots into a pot. He glances up and gives Noctis a small smile.

The sight settles the roiling in Noctis’ stomach, and despite his dry mouth and equally dry throat, he nods and chooses to believe in Ignis’ gut. The man’s never failed him, after all.

 

 

 

  
It’s ten minutes to midnight on August 29th, and sleep is robbed from the soon-to-be birthday boy. For hours, Noctis rolls around in bed, messing up the sheets and feeling increasingly agitated with each passing minute.

He ends up reaching for his phone, squinting against the backlight as he types out a quick text. Once that’s done, he flops onto his stomach and groans into his pillow.

It takes Ignis just a few minutes to arrive, and Noctis hears a couple of knocks on his door before a key slides into the lock and clicks open.

“Noct?”

“In here,” Noctis mumbles.

Soft footsteps pad into his bedroom. In his mind’s eye, Noctis pictures Ignis leaning against the doorframe, gentle gaze sliding over his sad frame.

“I have something to show you,” Ignis says. There’s a certain weight to his voice, and Noctis immediately sits up.

The first thing he notices is that Ignis is dressed in something other than pressed slacks and button-ups. Sweatpants cling to his long legs, and a simple cotton tee rests on his body. He’s also missing his gloves.

Ignis glances at the clock. Two minutes before Noctis turns eighteen.

“There’s a reason as to why I wear gloves,” he begins, and Noctis watches as lithe fingers curl into loose fists. “Apart from not wanting calluses when I train.”

Frowning, Noctis shuffles closer, the sheets tangling around his ankles. “I don’t understand?”

Ignis draws a breath and pulls his right hand out from where he’d been hiding it behind his back. A faint glow seems to emanate from his skin, and Noctis feels his pulse speed up.

When Ignis turns his hand around, palm up, Noctis involuntarily lets out a gasp.

The fair skin of Ignis’ palm is streaked with pale blue lines, the blurry edges fading out into nothingness as the lines rush up his forearm.

“Is this…” Noctis reaches out to brush fingers over the lines. “Your soulmark?”

“Yes,” Ignis says. He clears his throat, eyes darting over to the clock once more.

38 seconds.

“Why are you showing me this now?”

“To tell you that, if I’m right, you have nothing to worry about.”

22 seconds.

“And if I’m right, your soulmark will be on your right palm, too.”

It is with an unusual calmness that Noctis untangles himself from the sheets and gets to his feet.

“Ignis,” he says slowly, “are you telling me that I am your soulmate?”

All Ignis does in response is to reach out and close his fingers around Noctis’ right wrist. He brings his hand up and keeps it between them, making sure the palm faces up.

The clock strikes midnight, and they watch as the flesh of Noctis’ palm lights up in a wash of orange, red, and gold. Lines begin to etch themselves into his skin, starting at the base of his palm and reaching up towards the tips of his fingers.

“Fire,” Noctis whispers. His fingers are trembling.

“Indeed.” Ignis runs the flat of his thumb across the rich, orange lines. Blue and gold blend, and Noctis can feel the heat from Ignis’ touch surge up his veins.

“You.”

“Me. Happy eighteenth birthday, Noct.”

“You’ve known for two years.” At Ignis’ nod of confirmation, Noctis pushes on. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to risk anything,” Ignis says. Ever the prepared advisor, Noctis muses.

He glances down at their marks. “What does mine stand for?”

“It’s what your warp strikes look like,” Ignis says softly, the corners of his mouth quirking slightly. Noctis’ heart skips a beat at the sight.

 

 

 

  
They’re out on the balcony, standing under a sea of stars, shoulders pressed together for warmth.

“What now?” Noctis blurts, too distracted by his new soulmark to properly filter his words.

“Now, you let me court you,” Ignis says. “Or you are free to court me, whichever one suits you best. I don’t want to dive into this just because of our marks. I want our relationship to develop naturally.”

“Okay,” Noctis breathes, mind whirling with the idea of them _courting_ each other. “Yeah, Specs, that sounds good.”

He’s gazing up at the stars, but he feels it the second Ignis turns to him and smiles.

“Will you still be wearing your gloves?”

A quiet laugh bubbles up from his advisor. His soulmate. Noctis feels a matching smile spread across his lips.

“Of course. I do not wish for calluses, Noct.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh this event has been a joy :')
> 
>  
> 
> [Click for Links!](https://bluedveins.wixsite.com/evoxine)


End file.
